by one, these white men, till now they are many. And they are a restless
breed, never content to rest by the fire with a full belly and let the morrow
bring its own meat. A curse was laid upon them, it would seem, and they
must work it out in toil and hardship.”
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Keesh was startled. A recollection of a hazy story told by Mr. Brown of
one Adam, of old time, came to him, and it seemed that Mr. Brown had
spoken true.
“So they lay hands upon all they behold, these white men, and they go
everywhere and behold all things. And ever do more follow in their steps,
so that if nothing be done they will come to possess all the land and there
will be no room for the tribes of the Raven. Wherefore it is meet that we
fight with them till none are left. Then will we hold the passes and the
land, and perhaps our children and our children’s children shall flourish
and grow fat. There is a great struggle to come, when Wolf and Raven
shall grapple; but Keesh will not fight, nor will he let his people fight. So
it is not well that he should take to him my daughter. Thus have I spoken,
I, Gnob, chief of the Tana-naw.”
“But the white men are good and great,” Keesh made answer. “The white
men have taught us many things. The white men have given us blankets
and knives and guns, such as we have never made and never could make. I
remember in what manner we lived before they came. I was unborn then,
but I have it from my father. When we went on the hunt we must creep so
close to the moose that a spear-cast would cover the distance. To-day we
use the white man’s rifle, and farther away than can a child’s cry be heard.
We ate fish and meat and berries—there was nothing else to eat—and we
ate without salt. How many be there among you who care to go back to the
fish and meat without salt ?”
It would have sunk home, had not Madwan leaped to his feet ere silence
could come. “And first a question to thee, Keesh. The white man up at the
Big House tells you that it is wrong to kill. Yet do we not know that the
white men kill? Have we forgotten the great fight on the Koyokuk? or the
great fight at Nuklukyeto, where three white men killed twenty of the
Tozikakats? Do you think we no longer remember the three men of the
Tana-naw that the white man Macklewrath killed ? Tell me, O Keesh, why
does the Shaman Brown teach you that it is wrong to fight, when all his
brothers fight?”
“Nay, nay, there is no need to answer,” Gnob piped, while Keesh struggled
with the paradox. “It is very simple. The Good Man Brown would hold the
Raven tight whilst his brothers pluck the feathers.” He raised his voice.
“But so long as there is one Tana-naw to strike a blow, or one maiden to
bear a man-child, the Raven shall not be plucked!”
Gnob turned to a husky young man across the fire. “And what sayest thou,
Makamuk, who art brother to Su-Su?”
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Makamuk came to his feet. A long face-scar lifted his upper lip into a
perpetual grin which belied the glowing ferocity of his eyes. “This day,”
he began with cunning irrelevance, “I came by the Trader Macklewrath’s
cabin. And in the door I saw a child laughing at the sun. And the child
looked at me with the Trader Macklewrath’s eyes, and it was frightened.
The mother ran to it and quieted it. The mother was Ziska, the Thlunget
woman.”
A snarl of rage rose up and drowned his voice, which he stilled by turning
dramatically upon Keesh with outstretched arm and accusing finger.
“So? You give your women away, you Thlunget, and come to the Tananaw
for more? But we have need of our women, Keesh; for we must breed
men, many men, against the day when the Raven grapples with the Wolf.”
Through the storm of applause, Gnob’s voice shrilled clear. “And thou,
Nossabok, who art her favorite brother?”
The young fellow was slender and graceful, with the strong aquiline nose
and high brows of his type; but from some nervous affliction the lid of one
eye drooped at odd times in a suggestive wink. Even as he arose it so
drooped and rested a moment against his cheek. But it was not greeted
with the accustomed laughter. Every face was grave. “I, too, passed by the
Trader Macklewrath’s cabin,” he rippled in soft, girlish tones, wherein
there was much of youth and much of his sister. “And I saw Indians with
the sweat running into their eyes and their knees shaking with weariness—
I say, I saw Indians groaning under the logs for the store which the Trader
Macklewrath is to build. And with my eyes I saw them chopping wood to
keep the Shaman Brown’s Big House warm through the frost of the long
nights. This be squaw work. Never shall the Tana-naw do the like. We
shall be blood brothers to men, not squaws; and the Thlunget be squaws.”
A deep silence fell, and all eyes centred on Keesh. He looked about him
carefully, deliberately, full into the face of each grown man. “So,” he said
passionlessly. And “So,” he repeated. Then turned on his heel without
further word and passed out into the darkness.
Wading among sprawling babies and bristling wolf-dogs, he threaded the
great camp, and on its outskirts came upon a woman at work by the light
of a fire. With strings of bark stripped from the long roots of creeping
vines, she was braiding rope for the Fishing. For some time, without
speech, he watched her deft hands bringing law and order out of the unruly
mass of curling fibres. She was good to look upon, swaying there to her
task, strong-limbed, deep-cheated, and with hips made for motherhood.
And the bronze of her face was golden in the flickering light, her hair
blue-black, her eyes jet.
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“O Su-Su,” he spoke finally, “thou hast looked upon me kindly in the days
that have gone and in the days yet young—”
“I looked kindly upon thee for that thou wert chief of the Thlunget,” she
answered quickly, “and because thou wert big and strong.”
“Ay—”
“But that was in the old days of the Fishing,” she hastened to add, “before
the Shaman Brown came and taught thee ill things and led thy feet on
strange trails.”
“But I would tell thee the—”
She held up one hand in a gesture which reminded him of her father.
“Nay, I know already the speech that stirs in thy throat, O Keesh, and I
make answer now. It so happeneth that the fish of the water and the beasts
of the forest bring forth after their kind. And this is good. Likewise it
happeneth to women. It is for them to bring forth their kind, and even the
maiden, while she is yet a maiden, feels at the neck. And when such
feeling is strong, then does each maiden look about her with secret eyes
for the man—for the man who shall be fit to father her kind. So have I felt.
So did I feel when I looked upon thee and found thee big and strong, a
hunter and fighter of beasts and men, well able to win meat when I should
eat for two, well able to keep danger afar off when my helplessness drew
nigh. But that was before the day the Shaman Brown came into the land
and taught thee—”
“But it is not right, Su-Su. I have it on good word—”
“It is not right to kill. I know what thou wouldst say. Then breed thou after
thy kind, the kind that does not kill; but come not on such quest among the
Tana-naw. For it is said in the time to come, that the Raven shall grapple
with the Wolf. I do not know, for this be the affair of men; but I do know
that it is for me to bring forth men against that time.”
“Su-Su,” Keesh broke in, “thou must hear me—”
“A man would beat me with a stick and make me hear,” she sneered. “But
thou . . . here!” She thrust a bunch of bark into his hand. “I cannot give
thee myself, but this, yes. It looks fittest in thy hands. It is squaw work, so
braid away.”
He flung it from him, the angry blood pounding a muddy path under his
bronze.
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“One thing more,” she went on. “There be an old custom which thy father
and mine were not strangers to. When a man falls in battle, his scalp is